


Heartache Comes with a Bit of Young Faith

by ChiwiTheKiwi



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Childhood Trauma, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, He picks his moments but he's really just Good, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter is a Little Shit, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Precious Peter Parker, They're probably a bit out of character but I gave up trying to fix this up, This entire one-shot is me projecting and I'm unashamed to admit it, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony-centric, it's what they deserve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-25 03:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21349660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChiwiTheKiwi/pseuds/ChiwiTheKiwi
Summary: Shouting from just two rooms away, and the crying that would come soon after."Mr. Stark…?"The fear he would feel whenever he made a noise louder than intended. Always listening for the echo of footsteps drawing too close."Mr. Stark!"And suddenly he finds he's on the floor by the table he'd been seated at moments prior without any memory of when exactly he got down there.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 141





	Heartache Comes with a Bit of Young Faith

**Author's Note:**

> For starters, I am not happy with how this ended up. I rewrote so many separate parts of this and it was initially going to be longer but I decided I didn't like it that way either and so I wrote an entirely new end to this. I have about 2,000 words worth of unused writing that I did actually half-enjoy that will probably never see the light of day. Woo. Anyway, yeah, I'm not happy with it, but I want to put it out there anyway because I spent too long on this even if there are mistakes. May or may not end up writing a separate one-shot where Tony does in fact get a bird, because I just want shenanigans.
> 
> The "focus object" I mention and describe is in fact the exact same one that I have and I do the exact same process that I made Tony do. I also have panic attacks a lot like I pictured him having here — your mind just becomes so overwhelming you can barely function, even if it isn't really showing outwardly. 
> 
> Title comes from the lyrics of the song **Painkillers** by **Rainbow Kitten Surprise**. Don't let the name deter you, go check out some of their music. It's _really_ good.

It happens like most things do — at roughly the same speed as the Mach 5 setting on his latest sentry suit model.

He's sure Peter has noticed his odd behaviour by now, but Tony has kept himself busy all day. It even got to the point where he has worked through the pile of paperwork that was stacked on his desk two weeks ago, and he has now started and finished several small scale projects in the last few hours in the lab with something akin to desperation. That last part would have not been out of the ordinary for him, entirely parallel to his known habits, had it not been for the fact that there are moments where he almost seems to mentally, and consequently physically, falter. On a couple of occasions, he's gotten lost in his own head and dropped the mechanical part he'd been tinkering with, before the clattering of it hitting the worktable would draw him back to reality where he'd continue with shaking hands and slightly hastened breaths.

Every time it happens, Peter will bring up a new topic, seemingly anything that happens to come to mind, and continue to indulge in a stream of rambling until Tony can offer his own additions. All the while the undesired memories will echo through his mind as his subconscious screams '_don't think about it, don't do it, don't think about _Him,_ he's gone now_' while he exchanges comfortable banter with the kid.

For instance, they're currently discussing the fascinating topic of birds.

"Have you ever seen a bird's eyes dilate?" Peter asks as he lazily threads different shapes with webbing between his fingers. "They can do it when they're happy, or excited. It's actually really adorable." He stills, before looking up and across the lab to him. Tony just briefly looks at him from beneath a raised eyebrow, a slight smile playing at his lips. "Mr. Stark! You should get a bird! You could teach it so many words and phrases, and make people believe you were legitimately turned into a  _ bird _ . That would be fantastic. I think you should  _ definitely  _ do it."

He stifles an endearing laugh. "You just want to teach it robot noises." For his own amusement, he adds, "You know, from Star Trek." 

Tony watches as the kid's smile quickly falls into an over-dramatic grimace. "You  _ know  _ it's Star Wars and I know that you're messing with me, but it will never not be utterly embarrassing every time you do it. Please, for the love of all that is holy in this world, just say  _ Star Wars _ . It's all I ask of you."

This time, he allows the laugh to come naturally. He pretends not to notice how the kid's expression seems to drop into something resembling relief for a split second before recorrecting itself. "You're well aware I'd sooner throw myself into the harbour than comply with that. Plus, that would be no fun."

"It's not fun for  _ me _ anyway!" Peter complains, the brief expression disappearing and the webbing falling out of the finger pattern as he gestures accusingly at him.

He shrugs, eyes returning to his current project — the kitchen mixer that had just recently stopped working. "It's not meant to be. Someone's gotta have the short end of the stick here, and I'm older so I pick you."

"That's hardly fair. No, wait, that's not even  _ close  _ to fair! Mr. Stark!"

"It's the rules, kid!" he calls back, twirling the pliers he's holding in a circle over his head before returning with false disinterest to the task at hand. He fits another wire into place with as steady a hand as he can manage, before placing it to his side and stretching his arms and resting his hands on the back of his head. 

"Pray tell, whose rules might those be?" Peter inquires, shooting a glare from across the room.

"Mine, of course. I'm the adult in this conversation, so I get all the perks by default." He purposefully doesn't look back at the kid, instead flicking his eyes to his watch before heaving a sigh. "And as said adult, I also need to give baby spiders breaks, or I can expect a proper ass-whooping from May the moment she gets the chance." He claps his hands as he stands, while the boy only amusedly snorts before rising as well. 

They lapse into silence for a moment as Peter begins to clear away some of the things he was working with, and it suddenly becomes a hell of a lot harder to ignore his own mind. The smile easily slips from his face and all at once he's caught in the tide of the past. 

_ Shouting from just two rooms away, and the crying that would come soon after.  _

"Mr. Stark…?"

_ The fear he would feel whenever he made a noise louder than intended. Always listening for the echo of footsteps drawing too close. _

"Mr. Stark!"

And suddenly he finds he's on the floor by the table he'd been seated at moments prior without any memory of when exactly he got down there. He brings his hands to his face and hears his pulse racing in his ears, trying to ward off the physical feeling of his heart beating at an increased rate in his chest. His mind blinks with images and scenarios he would much rather forget, and he wishes he could desperately get back up and do something to keep his hands moving, but his body feels weak.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Stark?" Tony can feel the heat of the kid's stare on the top of his head. He keeps his hands firmly planted over his eyes, even when the panic and confusion in Peter’s tone sends guilt into the space around his lungs, constricting his breath slightly. He does his best to force it away, staving off even the slightest of hyperventilation least his last shreds of composure melt away.

"Peachy," he answers curtly, forcing all of his energy into trying to keep his mind from effectively shutting down. 

He would curse the timing of this, if he had the capacity to do so. Since he woke up this morning the feeling of looming anxiety surrounding memories long past has blanketed every second of his day. He prefers to keep his moments of vulnerability hidden in his own little havens of isolation. The lab typically would be one of them, but with Peter just a step away, practically radiating his alarm into the space, it only serves to fill him with dread. It's not that he dislikes him or his presence, but he'd just hoped he'd never have to expose this part of himself. He never wanted him to have to feel any sort of responsibility for Tony’s problems when the kid already has so many of his own he has left to organise and resolve. It just feels unfair to dump something like this on him.

_ Getting shoved aside as the crying continues. The determination to give her the safe place she deserved. _

There's silence for a while, as though the room has frozen in time. He just hopes that's the case, as he continues to struggle and fail to rein in the reminders of one of his greatest regrets. His fingertips press into his skin, muscles subconsciously tensing under the mental strain. His lungs continue to take in air at an average pace. A good sign, at least, that he's managing.

It's after a stretch of time that he feels a gentle hand grasp onto his left forearm. He begrudgingly allows one of his hands to be peeled away from his face. He doesn't open his eyes, but suddenly there's a weight deposited in his palm, and he cracks the one that’s uncovered open to look at the object. He lowers his other hand to his side as confusion momentarily flickers through him, and he looks to where Peter is now seated beside him on the floor, back pressed to the desk. Urging the silent question to pass over his face, he flicks his eyes to the small, unfamiliar metal orb and then back to the teen.

The response comes simply. "Tell me about it." Tony raises an eyebrow and he elaborates. "Describe to me the ball. Size, colour… anything you notice, doesn't matter what."

_ Fuck it _ , his mind half-supplies,  _ humour him _ .

He gives a slightly shaky sigh as he stares at it before speaking. "It's round, for starters…" he plucks it from his palm with the other hand, turning it between his fingers. "Small, grey…" he clears his throat. "It's hollow, has holes in it you can see through. Holes are… abnormal but rounded in shape, pretty evenly spaced too." He rubs his thumb across its metallic surface idly. "Pretty smooth, also kind of shiny. Has some scratches." A thought drifts in that brings a tentative smile to his face. "Reminds me of the first prototype suit I made back in Malibu. Similar metal and shine to it, I guess." He can practically feel the kid begin to likewise smile beside him. "The inside looks like it might be smooth too, and might actually be a bit of a darker grey, but it's probably just the shadow from the lights." 

The lights above him, he notices, are slightly dimmer than he remembers them being while they were working. The thoughtfulness of the kid’s action to lower them almost makes him misty-eyed. Firmly shoving the moisture back, he continues.

Bringing the ball to hover over his knee, he watches as the shadow clarifies into an incomplete patchwork of darkness as light is able to pass through the object entirely. "Leaves a pretty neat shadow…" 

He notices that his voice is easier to register than it had been when he started. It takes a few seconds to work out why, before he realises that his pulse's frantic rhythm has begun to subside, leaving him to be able to pick up the more subtle sounds of the lab. He can hear Peter breathing softly at his side, and the faint, ever-present electrical hum that emanates from most of the larger machines. His mind, too, no longer feels overwhelmed by his own conscious or subconscious thoughts. He releases a small, surprised breath.

A quiet voice draws his attention back to the kid. "Did it help?"

Tony answers just as softly. "Yeah… it did."

Peter nods, eyes turning to face in front of them. "I get like that sometimes." 

This has Tony turning his head to the kid. "Yeah?"

"Those times where your body is fine but your mind just… doesn't want to stop. I find doing what you just did helps, so I thought I should get you to try it too."

_ This kid… _

"Well… thank you." Before Tony turns away, he watches as the faintest bit of red rises to the boy's ears. "Today just hasn't been great."

The kid nods understandingly, but remains quiet, probably thinking better than to push him for details. Meanwhile, he relishes in the thoughts that come and go without prompting, only lingering for as long as necessary. It's a relief, and the weariness that hangs over him like a shroud can't even stifle it.

Neither of them speak for some time, simply sitting in the company of one another. Despite what just happened, and the emotions of it all, Tony finds he's actually quite comfortable with it; it almost feels natural.

He gingerly continues to idly twirl the ball between his fingers. He subconsciously notes that if he were to hold it tight enough, the patterns would leave small indents pressed into the skin.

"Is this yours?" he asks, eyes tracing the edges of each hole. 

Peter hums in confirmation. "It's my focus object. I keep it on me in case anything happens." Tony questions the implications for a second and offers it back to him, but Peter only shakes his head with a smile. "You can hold onto it for now, if you want."

He slowly nods, thankful for the gesture. The ball has become sort of comforting to keep close. "Alright."

They lapse into a brief silence again, before Tony is the one to break it again. "I'm sorry you had to be here for that, Pete."

The kid turns sharply to him at this. "Why?"

He blinks. "What?"

"Why are you sorry?" comes the response. Tony would say his expression actually seems accusing, like he's only trying to get the admittance out of him to confirm his own suspicions. It strikes something in him, and oddly enough leaves him feeling guilty.

"I…" he flounders, trying to piece any sort of intelligent sentence together. "I'd just never wanted you to see me like that. It's not something I want you to deal with on top of everything you already have going on. You’ve gotta keep living out your prepubescent years in that blissful teenage innocence while you have it." 

This prompts the ghost of a smile to Peter's face. "For starters, puberty has come and gone, thank you very much." He wrinkles his nose ever so slightly. "And never even mention puberty. Ever. It would be great for my overall emotional and mental health to never hear a word along the lines of 'puberty' come out of your mouth again."

Tony snickers. "If you hadn't told me otherwise I'd think you really want to have a discussion about puberty, considering how much you just said it."

The teen looks at him with a pained expression. "What did I  _ just _ say?" Tony chuckles, lowering his head with a toothy grin. "But seriously… you don't need to be sorry for this. Believe me, I get it, you don't want to look weak or something—" Tony inwardly grimaces"—but stuff just...  _ happens _ . Sometimes we can't control it."

"Is there something you're not telling me, Pete?" he asks before he even processes his own response.

He goes quiet and still as Ton _ y  _ awaits his answer. "I can do things that most teenagers wouldn't even dream of being capable of, and I put my powers to work in a way that gets me in a lot of trouble. You understand, I’m sure. Sometimes you create more evil than you vanquish, even if the bad guy is caught, and those demons just worm their way into your head and latch on.” He opens his mouth, and Peter interjects before he can even get the words out. “Apologise for something you’re in no way responsible for again and I’m going to grab the ball and throw it at you.”

Tony can only laugh. “When did you pick up all that sass?”

“I’ve been hanging around you for how long now?” The kid raises an eyebrow. “Really, it was unavoidable that I’d learn some things.”

He reels back, gaping in offense. “Excuse me? I think it’s time you tone that  _ way  _ down. I am not prepared to be held accountable for any of your rebellious teenage sarcasm. Your aunt would beat my  _ ass.” _

Peter snorts. “Cowed.”

“You know what? Yeah, your aunt scares the shit out of me.”

The laugh the kid releases with his confession brings a smile to his own face. He tries to ignore the warm feeling that floods him at seeing Peter joyous after the anxiety attack he’d just seen Tony through, but even he can recognise how it replaces the remnants of his nerves that are yet to fade. 

God, he’s glad he found this kid.

“In all seriousness, Pete, is there anything you need to talk about?”

“I think I should be asking  _ you _ that,” he retorts. They fall into silence for a second before Tony sighs, resigned.

He thinks about this with seriousness, wondering whether he  _ should  _ talk about it. There’s only two other people in the entire world that he’s opened up to regarding his childhood. Only those two people know the whole truth behind the relationship — well, if he could even call it that — that he and his father had. There’s a possibility it might just finally be time he told a third.

And then he actually  _ thinks  _ about the contents of his problems and he very promptly hits a roadblock. Not because he doesn’t trust Peter with the information, or thinks he wouldn’t be able to handle it. It’s an issue on his own part, he knows. After just making it out of that anxiety attack in one piece, he feels nothing less than exhausted. He doesn’t even know if he could make it through a conversation about it without devolving into a mess again.

_ Not yet, _ he thinks.

“Not yet,” he says aloud. “For now I’ll be fine. I just need to…” he trails off, waving one hand in front of him vaguely while rolling the ball in the palm of the other before proffering it once again. 

In the corner of his eye he sees the small movement of the teen nodding as he takes it back. “I understand. Just know the offer is always open if or whenever you’re ready.”

_ God, this kid… _

“... Thank you, Pete.” 

They sit there for a moment, just enjoying the unfamiliar — yet not unwelcome — atmosphere between them. If he’d been told that he’d be sitting around on the floor of his lab after a trauma-induced episode with an enhanced teenager he is determinedly trying not to think of as his own at almost every turn, he would have stomped that person into the ground. When he’d invited the kid to hang around the compound every weekend for repairs and upgrades on the suit, it had quickly mutated into a much more informal system. There were nights where work was finished early and so Tony would order in food and the two of them would watch movies or bum around the personal levels doing whatever it is that could hold their attention long enough. It didn’t take long for him to realise offering this kid a spot as an Avenger, even if it’d been taken as illegitimate at the time, was actually a bad idea. Whenever he sees him doing something that’s just so very,  _ very  _ Peter, he realises just how much he cares about him. And in subsequence, he realises how bringing him into that life would seriously dampen all the parts of him that ride on the purity of growing up.

Peter finally stretches and then stands, offering a hand down to Tony with a grin. When he takes it with a smirk of his own, he isn’t even surprised by the speed at which he comes up with how insanely strong the kid is. What  _ does  _ surprise him, though, is the sudden impulse that strikes him fast and true as he’s being yanked to his feet. He decides to follow it, throwing aside any of the hesitation that would have often plagued him.

Once he’s on his feet, he doesn’t let go of the kid’s hand, and instead pulls him towards him until his arms can gently, yet firmly, encompass the boy. 

If he could see Peter’s face at the moment of realisation of what was happening, he’s sure it would have been quite a sight. But for now, FRIDAY’s recordings will have to do.

It doesn’t take long before he feels the embrace being reciprocated. Tony feels a wave of calmness fall over him as they stand locked in each other’s arms. 

He  _ has  _ to have gone soft. 

From his shoulder he hears, “So we’re there now?” 

It causes him to snort. “Yeah, sure. I think we’ve been there for a while now, actually.”

The kid merely tightens his hold slightly in response. Meanwhile, the smile on Tony’s face is wide and genuine as he does the same; so maybe he cares a bit more than he’d originally thought. There’s a few more seconds of silence before he gently pulls away, Peter following suit. 

With a hand still placed on the boy's shoulder, he asks, “Pizza?” The question is vague, but he knows the kid understands anyway. His assumption is proven correct when the grin on his face only grows and he seems to straighten a bit in excitement. The reaction brings a warmth to his chest he doesn’t even attempt to push away.

“Always.”

As they leave the lab together, ignoring the prior incident but not the new development between the two of them due to it, they talk about what next to binge together. 

Later, when they’re watching the ending credits roll for the third episode of a particular show that the kid had very aptly described as ‘a bunch of kids and a couple of immortals stop the oncoming devastation caused by Satan himself’, he finds himself pondering an earlier topic. With the two of them sprawled across one of the couches, legs overlapping as they lay from different ends, he decides to make it known.

"You know what? I'll think about it," he adds, sniffing with a quick swipe at his nose. He hopes he’s not about to regret this.

Peter turns to him, a perplexed look causing him to raise an eyebrow, "About what?"

"The bird," he answers simply. "Maybe having a bird around wouldn't be all that bad."

Even while refusing to meet his eyes, he can  _ feel _ the delighted grin break out onto the teen’s face, sparking a smaller, fonder one of his own. 

As the kid starts throwing out names straight from the brain of an unabashed nerd, he knows that he wouldn’t give this up for anything. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Tony: "All children are gremlins"  
Peter: [exists]  
Tony: "Him too, but he can stay"
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr here: [chiwithekiwi](https://chiwithekiwi.tumblr.com/)


End file.
